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The curse of the fox-man
One of the warrior-women walked over to the three captives and tapped Kip with the butt of her spear. "What sort of wizard are you, anyway?" she asked. "Are you under a curse? I've heard of a man being turned into a wolf, but not a fox." Kip Adar raised his head to meet the woman's gaze. "Oh, indeed, I'm under a curse. I was cursed the day I agreed to go on this damned journey!" A few of the other warrior-women laughed, but the one who had spoken to Kip silenced them with an angry frown. "Speak seriously!" she growled at the fox-wizard. "Are you afflicted with lycanthropy? Will you turn completely into a fox at the next full moon?" Kip started to speak, to tell her that this was his normal form, but then an idea occurred to him. "Yes," he replied in a sad, weary tone, "I'm indeed afflicted with lycanthropy. And it's the worst kind of lycanthropy --- Andaluvian Lycanthropy." The woman gave him a blank look. "I've never heard of that." "Of course you haven't. It's very rare. I contracted it in the Andaluvian Mountains. I was bitten by a rapid fox, and since that time I have assumed this form. But that's not the worst part." He sighed heavily. "What's the worst part?" the woman asked, her eyes growing wide. "The worst part," Kip said slowly, "is that my blood is so deeply infected with this dread disease that the slightest drop of it spreads Andaluvian Lycanthropy to everyone within the blood's scent. And the scent of my blood can be detected from a great distance." He sighed again and shook his head. "I once stepped upon a sharp stone and infected my dearest friend. He went mad, poor fellow. It's a terrible curse that I bear." The warrior-women shrank back and began talking among themselves. One of them had a sword in her hand, but she quickly thrust it into its scabbard. Brox turned to Kip. "Why you tell em doze lies?" he grumbled. "We're still priz'ners, so what good is all that gonna do us?" Kip managed a slight smile in spite of the rope around his neck. "It doesn't help YOU," he whispered, "but I don't think they'll be slitting MY throat any time soon!"In the evening the Syawnee posted a guard to keep the prisoners under control - but she did not take place very close to them. "Look!" Mordimer grinned, "your story takes effect. Apparently she fears that you spit at her or something ..." "Perhaps I should try it." Kip pondered. "Bedda get me das wata bucket!" asked Brox. "Wee must use ar legs when it's dawk ..." "For what do you need the bucket?" Kip wondered. "A've found awt des I can reech da seam of mah coat wit ma hands. And a've hidden some dry camicals dere if da wawst comes to da wawst. But dey awnly wawk with water." "And what are these chemicals doing?" Kip asked curiously. "Nuff questions!" Gigantus said. "It is dark enough already! The guard cannot see us clearly and this neck-rope kills me!" Brox objected: "No, it is still too arly!" But Kip agreed with Gigantus: "Okay. Let us try to get it! Aaaargh!" While almost being choked by their neck bondages they tediously managed to push the bucket close to Brox. Over the entire term they continued their conversation as well as possible and did not arouse suspicion. It was pitch dark when Brox unstiched the seam, took two small pouches and filled it into the water. Shortly after the liquid began to hiss and brew. Brox expressed a gentle tone of pain when he tried to intinct the bondage straps of his hands into the vitrolic liquid. But soon his hands were free. He used one of the empty pouches to pour the acid onto the rope that enchanined their necks, and soon all of the sorcerers were unbound. Gigantus said: "Now we must look for some water! Brox ruined my whole bucket and I am thirsty as a desert!"